Goodnight Beautiful Wolfram
by AirKnitter
Summary: A very sad story starring Wolfram. After one too many indescretions on behalf of Yuuri, Wolfram takes his pain out on his body. Tragedy, character self-harm, suicide.


Goodnight Beautiful Wolfram

By: AirKnitter

A/N I wrote this while listening to a song that was supposed to be happy, so therefore I wanted a funny story, but it wanted to be sad. This story wrote itself and I like it. It made me cry. It was beta'd by my younger brother, the most spoiled brat of all, Wolfram von Bielefeld. It's dedicated to my friend CheyanneChika. It's my first emo story that's this heavy, so enjoy!

I don't own or anything.

Wolfram sat deep within his closet, hidden amongst the piles of clothing, and holding the silver knife against his smooth porcelain skin as he thought back to what brought him to this conclusion: The king doesn't love him, and he never will see him as anything other than a pesky little spoiled brat prince. That sad thought brought sparkling tears to the emerald eyes that were dulled with the pain the realization had brought.

Wolfram had waited…and waited…and waited some more. It had been years since the day that Yuuri had proposed to him, and Wolfram could no longer take the cold glances and unbearable tolerance that the king presented him with, as if it were torture to merely be in the golden haired knight's presence.

He would suffer through this misery as long as it took…Until the day Yuuri no longer needed him. The only thing he had to use against the pain was the silver knife in his clenched fist.

He sliced the skin of his wrist open and added another red slash to the rest of the scars that littered his otherwise perfect skin. Wolf had many similar scars on his arms from the self destruction that he partook in ever since he was inducted into the Bielefeld Regiment. He wanted a platoon of soldiers for his own as was fitting one his rank. His uncle accused him of being a selfish brat. That was always the standard retort; Selfish Brat. That hurt worse than all of Yuuri's proclamations that the engagement was merely a farce and that he would break it off when he had the chance.

Wolfram sat and cried as the blood dripped down his arm, hugging the wound to his chest in a manner close to one hugging themself. Never had anything hurt this badly. The slash across his wrist wasn't enough to keep his emotions at bay, the weight of what he had just done hanging from him like a manacle securely tied and unwilling to move. Why couldn't anybody see past his pain and just accept him as he was? He was the pretty one, and the one who had to be perfect all the time. His hair had to always be the perfect blonde color and wavy just so. His green eyes always had to be bright and clear, dull eyes would never do for the beautiful young Prince Wolfram. His looks were the only thing that the others appreciated him for, so they had to be in tip-top condition. The only imperfections were the secret cut and scars on his thin wrist.

He glanced down at the crimson heat engulfing the sleeve of his uniform tunic, ruby and navy mixing. He had often thought about bearing down just a little harder and severing his wrist's arteries and just ending it. His pride however would not allow it. He was the commander of the Bielefeld Regiment for the King. He had to, above all else, have self restraint no matter how hard it was for him.

The worst part was seeing the object of his affection flaunting his blatant disrespect for their engagement by flirting with the floozies in the court. Wolfram had a whole row scars dedicated to that, and he could even remember each of the whore's names that drove him to make the harsh cuts across his porcelain flesh. No one knew of his obsessive cutting. It was the perfect crime to commit for no one bothered to check. No one questioned the time that Wolfram spent by himself every once in a while. If he didn't show up for a meal or two, no one wondered where the young blonde was.

Wolfram had tried to speak of his pain, but his oldest brother would just tell him to grow up and stop acting like a child. He had duties to attend to and he had no time for romantic silliness. When he tried to speak to Conrart, all he would get is a quick hug and an infuriating smile before he ran off to wipe the king's ass for him. As for talking to Yuuri, yeah right. His homophobic tendencies would shine and he would head off to find a girl to flatter his whimsy, a fact that he didn't bother to hide.

Wolfram got up reluctantly and cleaned up his arm, washing the blood away with the washcloth sitting in his water basin, staring in wonderment as the water was stained a filthy red, before dressing for dinner.

He walked out of his room, careful to shut the door behind him, and began heading down the endless stone corridor leading to the great dining hall. Upon arriving, he was stopped in the doorway to the sight of an unfamiliar blonde seated in _his_ chair! Without even waiting to find out the story he turned and walked briskly down the corridor to his private rooms. He knew without looking that nobody was pursuing him to help heal his broken heart, his footsteps the only sound echoing throughout the cold space. It was brash, yes, but thoughts of ending it all flew into his head quicker then ever before. He couldn't take it anymore…he was to his breaking point. He flung open the closet door and pulled out his silver dagger and with no further thoughts slashed his wrist viscously down to the delicate bones, an angelic smile adorning his face.

His knees collapsed out from under him as he felt his life force flowing out of his wounded wrist. It wouldn't be long before the red liquid ran out, and he would remain a blonde knight, slowly bleeding to death by his own hand. He felt the warmth of blood seeping all around him, soaking his golden hair and turning it a strawberry blonde color. His last coherent thought was, 'There. At least one of us will be happy now...' And that was really all that had ever mattered. Wolfram's happiness could be put on hold permanently if it meant that Yuuri could be happy. Wolfram had committed the forbidden taboo that he had tried his hardest to prevent. But there was no going back, now. It would all be over soon and then, there wouldn't be anymore turning blind eyes, or watching Yuuri from a distance. And, with that in mind, Wolfram's glazed over emerald eyes slid shut, leaving his world to the blackness before him.

Yuuri rushed out the door of the dining room after his blonde friend left. He was worried he might feel sick and in his own goofy way wanted to help him. Yuuri lost him in the maze of hallways that littered the castle and after asking a guardsman, found the blonde's room. The door stood ajar, and when the king opened it further, he was assaulted by the smell of blood. He ran in and found the weak mazoku in a pool of his blood, his wrist still bleeding, but the rush of it was minimal at best.

He yelled for help and the escorts that always trailed him burst in with swords drawn. They helped the king lift the dying blonde onto his bed to make him more comfortable. Yuuri sent a man out to find Gisela on orders to run as fast as possible. If the bluish tint on Wolf's lips was any indication he didn't have much time.

Yuuri grasped his bloody hand desperately trying to heal the wound, and after expelling most of his magic finally closing it. It seemed no matter how much he willed the blonde prince awake, his breathing got weaker and his body grew colder. Wolfram was dying, and it was nothing that he could prevent…

Yuuri knelt by Wolfram's side and grasped both hands in his, fighting back his tears as he saw the old scars adorning the small wrists. He placed the hands to his forehead, bending over the lifeless body.

Wolfram had once said, in Yuuri's times of trouble, that if saying 'goodbye' is so hard, then we should just say 'goodnight'. 'Goodnight' held more promise then 'goodbye'. Wolfram had told him, with that rare wise look in his eye, that 'goodbye' meant the end, and 'goodnight' promised that they'd meet again.

Yuuri let the first of his sobs escape him and in a breathy whisper, he let a soft "Goodnight…" escape him.

Gisela burst in the room sometime after that, catching the king leaning over the too pale body, and after checking Wolfram's pulse and heartbeat, she discovered that there was nothing to be done. Wolfram von Bielefeld was dead.

Years later, after his family and friend's mourning was long since past, Yuuri married the blonde from the dining room and together they had several children, one of whom bore a strong resemblance to a certain blonde prince from the past. Yuuri insisted that this child be named Wolfram.

In the temple of Shinou, two blonde mazoku who looked very similar looked out after the people of the kingdom with the help of the Great Sage. One ghost kept a particularly watchful eye on his namesake and guided him to manhood.

Some say that Wolfram died miserable, and miserable he remained in the afterlife, but Yuuri always denied it. Though Wolfram had no doubt lived a rough life, and though this rough life had led him to commit the acts that he did, Yuuri could still picture the smile that had adorned Wolfram's face as he lay in the puddle of blood, the small grin reaching out as if to tell Yuuri that Wolfram was truly happy now that it was the end.

As some say, there is happiness in ending things. Yuuri lived by this code and hoped beyond hope that this also applied to Wolfram, whom Yuuri was sure was still around, be it by the feeling of eyes bearing into his back, or the whispers of 'wimp' lingering in the halls after dark. Wolfram was still there, as he always was, watching over Yuuri in the clarity that death had brought him.

Death had an odd way of doing that. It showed someone the truth of the world, the facts of life. It made a person view their life's mistakes with a sudden clear headedness and made someone unreasonably patient and peaceful.

After the old king died, Prince Wolfram was named the king and the kingdom prospered under his rule, and Wolfram's life carried on through the eyes of that young king, the evidence of his existence present in the strands of Beautiful Wolfram blossoms that would occasionally be hung up by the castle gates.


End file.
